Little Man
by ACDCgirl
Summary: 10-15 years into the future, Daddy!Kurt has an impromptu discussion with his little man.
1. Chapter 1: Old MacDonald

**LITTLE MAN**

It was quite something to behold, socks, underpants and little vests lay scattered in piles and rings around a half-dressed little man with curls and a laundry basket between two splayed legs with knobbly knees. Indeed, there was not a patch of living room carpet to be found under the piles of disoriented hosiery, and had anyone else been responsible for the mess Kurt would have filled the painted room with shrill disapproval. But as it was, the detritus drew only a wearied and fond smile.

"Old MacDonald had a farm ee-i-ee-i-oh and on that farm he has some pigs ee-i-ee-i-oh…"

The voice warbled with confidence and the lyrics were clear – if somewhat lispy. The song had been going on for quite some time, and had anyone else been responsible for the noise, Kurt would have brought on a sudden end with a harsh verbal slap, but as it was simply tilted his head to one side and contemplated the child.

"Old MacDonald had a farm ee-i-ee-i-oh and on that farm he has some ducks ee-i-ee-i-oh…"

Kurt had in fact set out this morning with a goal in mind, chores and learning responsibility had been the theme of that Thursday's venture, but young Finlay had a way of turning everything into a game.

"Old MacDonald had a farm ee-i-ee-i-oh and on that farm he has some sheep ee-i-ee-i-oh…"

"Baby, why do you keep missing out the middle bit?"

The toddler's head shot up in comical fashion, intrigued at the interruption.

"What middle bit Dada?"

"The middle bit. You're supposed to say what the sheep says. You know 'With a baa-baa here and a baa-baa there…"

The youngster looked away, selected a sock and deposited it on a different pile for no particular reason. Kurt kept smiling and didn't hurry him.

"It's not fair for the sheeps."

Muffled. Finlay's nose now half-buried in the laundry basket.

"Not fair? How do you mean?"

The nose went up for air.

"They shouldn't have t' go baa if they doesn't want to." The owner pronounced with great sincerity. "You shouldn't be telling a sheep what to do."

Kurt wanted to chuckle, but wanted to hear his son talk more.

"So you just leave it out."

"Yes."

A tiny sneeze. A quiet 'Bless-you.'

"I leave it out and so the sheep can do whatever noise they want."

The little man examined his Dada with his Papa's amber eyes.

"You said anyone can do anything they want, s'long as they don't hurt nobody else."

Kurt didn't want to chuckle anymore, he wanted to crawl across the sea of socks and kiss his baby boy. So he did.

"That's true. I did say that."

"You said some n'other things too, Dada."

"Did I say that I loved you?"

Finlay gave much thought to this.

"Not t'day."

"I love you Finlay."

"I love you, Dada."

A sunny, innocent smile, a look of adoration, and the one with a shorter attention span turned back to the task in hand.

Kurt crossed his legs underneath him and thought about turning on the radio.

Until the singing began again.

"Old MacDonald had a farm ee-i-ee-i-oh, and on that farm he had some fish ee-i-ee-i-oh."

_FIN_

**_AN – Love it or hate it…review and let me know if it's worth continuing (I will take requests if anyone wants)_**


	2. Chapter 2: Silly Dada

_**AN - I had such a hard time writing this, on average I managed a couple of sentences a day and most were re-written several times, hmph...ah well, moment of truth :/**_

**...**

It had been a heavy, wintry downpour, but the beauty of the wet city made up for the damp chill. Kurt was content with the sounds of the metropolis, the moist breeze and his husband's arm around his waist, Blaine was satisfied with the smell of rain, the muted pastel grey sky and the feel of Kurt's body against his own, while little Finlay hopped ahead in search of puddles, utterly joyful.

It was perhaps a little odd to be taking a family walk at such a slippery, drippy time but as the smallest man of the house had proclaimed 'Just some wet shouldn't be keeping us inside.'

Blaine was glad to be out in the open, the watery sidewalk held a whole new appeal now he was with his family, his headache had all but dissipated along with the nagging memory of the workday, a cup of hot tea and dry toast were enough to settle his stomach and a sloppy kiss in the general face area from tiny smiling lips were enough to bring back his smile.

Finlay, wise for his tender age, always worried when his Papa wasn't smiling.

"Pa, some of your face is missing." The young boy had a tendency to say; on those gloomy occasions that Blaine would return home without his ear-to-ear grin.

A succession of cars whooshed by, Finlay looked up from his close inspection of a fat slug.

"Why doesn't we have a car?" he inquired

Kurt answered, not needing any eye-contact to know that the question was directed at him,

"No-one drives in New York, baby."

The clever little person turned incredulous eyes upon his one Father.

"No, them people does."

A snicker from Blaine, and an elbow in the ribs from Kurt,

"That's true."

"Silly Dada."

Eyes widened in mock indignation, "Who are you calling 'silly' little boy?"

A bout of giggling and tiny legs braced to scamper, Blaine – raised eyebrow – swiftly retracted his arm and Kurt's eyes sparkled

"I'm going to **get **you for that!"

Finlay shrieked and took flight, Kurt in hot pursuit, they were quite the thundering spectacle in fact, a screeching little boy fleeing the advance of a bow-legged, hunch-shouldered, roaring Dada Monster,

"You can never escape me! I'm going to catch you, and I'm going to make you PAY!"

Chiming bell-peals of laughter soared over the little boy's shoulder, Papa quickened his pace, arms flailing at shoulder level; he was a reticent runner, not blessed with any of Kurt's grace or sparkling energy.

Kurt pounced, scooping the writhing, yelping bundle of squeals into his arms, nuzzling his grinning face into a plump toddler belly

"Dada, noooo!" In between shrieks and gurgles "No tickles! Noooo!"

Blaine lost more short breath to laughter

"Dada don' eat me! Nooo!"

"Uh-huh, I warned you, didn't I warn you? You're not to call me names!"

Blaine closed in beaming, he kissed Kurt's neck, suddenly wanting every onlooker to know he was the husband of this fabulous man

Kurt was now demanding an apology, pretending he held a shred of strictness about him

"Say you're sorry!"

"Dada nooo! Can' breathe!"

"Now say you're sorry!"

"Noooo!"

Blaine rested his head on Kurt's shoulder, substitute for a hug

"Say you're sorry, Finnie!"

"Eeek! I sorry Dada! Not silly! Not Silly!"

Kurt relinquished his clasping arms and swung the grinning, panting infant high above his head,

Blaine kissed Kurt's ear, making him twitch. The whole moment was bathed in the mellow afterglow of so much mirth.

As soon as Finlay hit the Earth the beautiful moment gave way into the next, and he was off chasing imaginary butterflies and leaping enthusiastically into muddy holes of water.

Kurt and Blaine intertwined their fingers once more, arms swinging as one limb.

Kurt tore his gaze from Finlay to touch Blaine with eyes that said _Thank You for Him_.

A single squeeze was enough to confirm that Blaine still understood.

**_AN - Hope it was worth it. Review and let me know._**


	3. Chapter 3: Stories

_**( Psst! I don't know if you followers will get an alert about an updated chapter but I have made some edits to the end of this one, because the idea of Finlay telling no more stories was too sad ):**_

_**AN - I hope this makes up for the long wait...**_

_**...**_

Blaine was caught halfway between exasperation and amusement as he stood, hands on hips, examining the kitchen. It wasn't the unwashed dishes, or the grimy stove or the old rotting fruit that had drawn his attention but the pink, little bare-chested person, splay-legged on the lino, chin thrust upward, sitting on his hands like a pouting prisoner of war.

And the open Goober Jelly jar dribbling on the counter.

Very suspicious he thought, hearing Kurt's trademark sarcastic voice in his mind as he did.

"Hello, Finlay."

This seemed a good way to begin.

" 'Lo Papa."

"And what are you up to?"

There was a wide eyed pause.

"Um… nothin' I'm just sittin'"

"Sitting on your hands? That can't be comfortable."

Little Finlay hummed as though trying to change the subject with a song.

Blaine sank into a heavy cross-legged pile on the floor facing his son, he possessed so much less dignity than Kurt and it served him well in situations like this.

'Finnie?'

'Yes, Pa?'

'How come the Goobers jar is empty?'

Finlay's mouth hung open in deliberation

'It was the mouses, Papa!'

Blaine kept his smile closed and his voice warm, he had always prided himself on his merry disposition and had been determined that it not abandon him in fatherhood.

'Have we got mouses in the house?'

'Not any now, I chased 'em off Papa!'

The little voice was growing excited now, the thrill of the story overtaking the necessity of a lie.

'Yeah, they was big mice… big as me… in hoodies… with knifes and hats…and they was stealing all the jelly from in the cupboards… and I chased 'em off!'

Blaine propped his chin upon his hand upon his knee and focused on the animated storyteller.

'I shooed 'em off…and they leaved 'cause they was scared…'cause I'm big and scary to mouses, Papa! Really scary!'

Little cheeks were flushed with momentum and little hands trapped under a bottom must have itched to join in the tale with grand gestures.

'I was gonna call the police but then my lego police came instead…and they arrested the mouses…and took 'em away to a prison…and I wasn't even scared of the knifes and things…I just fighted with the mice so they would leave the Jelly…'

'I think you've got sticky fingers, Fin.'

Blaine interrupted, Finlay was unruffled

''Cause the mouses had Jelly on them Papa, duh!'

Blaine snickered and folded his arms across his chest. Finlay's hands slid out from under him and plopped onto his knees. Blaine bent forward,

'Are you sure that's what happened…?'

A determined nod, the two were nose to nose… Papa's smile spread like cream, he couldn't be this close to his son and not smile a little wider than before.

'I **saw **the mouses, Pa.'

Sombre Kurt would have held an investigative hearing in the sitting room – but that was hardly jolly Papa's style…

'That.' he said 'Is the best story I have ever heard. But it is… unfortunately… not true.'

He drew back.

'I'm going to ask you a serious question now, Finlay, and I want to hear a serious answer. That's fair, right?'

A less determined nod. Papa's eyes were calm and level and full of hope,

'I love you. And I need to hear you tell me now, the truth. Can you do that?'

Another nod from the little man,

'Ok. Finlay, did you take the Jelly off the counter and eat it?'

The child was unabashed, he could look straight into Papa's eyes – certain he was in no danger.

'I eated it, Papa. I was hungry.'

Blaine's eyes shone and his shoulders fell.

'Thank-you for doing what I asked baby.'

Both boys wriggled to their feet.

'Let's go wash.'

'Why Pa?'

''Cause you're all sticky, boo, that's why.'

Later that night, after Blaine rang his husband surreptitiously from the toilet and Kurt came home and gave a seminar on how story-telling at the wrong times was called lying and lying made everybody sad and disappointed.

After dinner, which came and went with no mention of any dessert for Finlay,

After the bedtime sing-song and after every shadowy nook and cranny was pronounced fully monster-free.

After cuddles and kisses and after the curtains were drawn, Blaine was beckoned very close to the head on the bed, ear bent very low to catch the conspiratorial whisper

'I not gonna tell any stories no more, Papa.'

Finlay was very sincere.

''Cause I don't want t' tell no lies.'

A disapproving sniff.

'They doesn't sound very nice.'

And with that sentiment the little philosopher blew a raspberry and snuggled down into the duvet.

Blaine put a kiss among the curls,

'No, baby. You must never stop telling your stories...'

This was very important,

'You just gotta _tell _me it's a story before you start, so I don't think you're telling a lie...alright?'

A yawn and a nod.

A sleepy dismissal.

Blaine slipped from the room, eyes shining with this newfound feeling of triumph.

He was eager to share that feeling with Kurt and fervently hoping to spend the next few hours in loving conversation with his husband's warm, pale skin..

_**AN - Still not so sure about that ending... ah well, review and let me know what you think (pretty please)**_


End file.
